


She Dreams of Domesticity

by cellardoor



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellardoor/pseuds/cellardoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've talked about college, but surely, she thinks, it's just not on the cards. Not when there are faces to be punched and asses to be kicked. There's no shortage of bad guys, and, well - they like it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Dreams of Domesticity

They've talked about college, and Wally has wiggled his eyebrows as suggestively as he knows how (which is, by the way, _very_ ) and left Artemis in no doubt whatsoever that he is one-hundred percent up for moving in with her, getting a degree, being _normal_. Well, as normal as you can be when you need ten-thousand plus calories a day. Artemis bats him about the head and scowls, because that's just what she does, god forbid she feed his ego. Sometimes, though, she forgets, and he sees in her smile that she wants it as much as he does. Of course, she bats him about the head anyway, but Wally just beams and kisses her brightly.

 

Surely, she thinks, it's just not on the cards. Not when there are faces to be punched and asses to be kicked. There's no shortage of bad guys, and, well - they like it that way. There's something to be said for falling for a teammate. Staggering in after a long mission. Stumbling in the shower. Soothing each other's bumps and bruises (and maybe forgetting a little bit how tired they are, and soothing _other_ things, and then sniggering with their fists stuffed in their mouth because Conner's awkward silences speak lewd volumes.)

 

It goes like this, and they expect nothing less.

 

She delivers a perfectly executed shot at a crucial moment, and Wally zips over and plants a sloppy, proud kiss in the corner of her mouth. Wally whisks her out of harm's way in the nick of time, and she throws her arms around his neck with pride, relief, and that strange, nagging thing called love that never fails to surprise her, even after all this time. 

 

Yes, this is good. Fighting crime together is good. Why college? Why a normal life? 

 

It's a routine mission, and Wally's mind is so exasperatingly far from the task at hand that it's almost funny. He stands too close, brushes his hand against her back too often, and keeps breathing just behind her ear, his breath warm and sticky. It's _distracting_. And kind of nice. She swats him away half-heartedly, but he just takes this as a cue to snake his arm around her and pull her close. They're just leaning in, breathing maybe a bit too heavily, when a loud 'CRACK' brings her back to her senses.

 

She swears, taking off in the direction of the noise, reaching behind for her arrows and forcing herself not to spare Wally a second glance. She hopes no one got hurt because of her stupid inability to say no to that persistent, ginger idiot. For a split second, she wants to punch Wally in the face, _hard_.

 

Then, a thin mist starts to spread over the rooftop, and her vision starts to cloud. She has a brief second for one last desperate curse, and then she doesn't remember anything.

 

Wally finds her, after a few terrifying minutes of desperate searching, Nightwing close behind him looking grim. Those _fucking_ bats, Wally thinks furiously, and their _fucking_ mysterious, sombre expressions. Even Dick, sometimes, with that impenetrable mask of 'I know something you don't.' He hates them right now. So much.

"What was that?" Wally snaps. "Gas?" Dick doesn't answer. "Dick, _seriously-_ "

 

Artemis is lying sprawled in a horrifically unnatural way, arms and legs bent horribly at peculiar angles. She is white - stupidly, ridiculous _white_ \- and her lips are blue. She begins to twitch, eyes rolling, and Wally roars something he isn't even aware of. Then, she is deadly still, and that is one hundred thousand _million_ times worse.

 

He's a _superhero_. He's used to life or death situations. He's incredibly well-trained in emergency first aid, resuscitation - you name it. Hell, he can whip up a half-decent tourniquet at a push. Yet somehow, he finds himself sinking to his knees, yelling and shaking and crying and completely falling apart. He can't remember anything except this moment, he can't see anything but her pale, still face, and all he can think about is how he can't even begin to live without her.

 

Then, Dick is pushing past him roughly, and yelling at him to find M'gann, but Wally is frozen to the spot. He thinks he might throw up. Pass out. Cease to exist. _Die_. Dick shoots him a frustrated look - he doesn't understand, _how could he_ _-_ and bends down to Artemis, pushing on her chest rhythmically. Wally can't feel, think, move, breathe. _She's dying_ , his brain screams. He feels a million years old.

 

Suddenly, she takes a long rattling breath. 

"Artemis," he croaks, shaking so hard he can barely stand. "Artemis-"

"Get her back to the ship," Dick says, rather sharply, " _Now."_

"I - I can't," Wally chokes, watching her lips slowly regaining colour, not even remotely reassured, "I - don't -"

 

Dick groans, lifts Artemis up himself, and snaps at Wally to get to his feet. Wally follows him, somehow, and slumps down in the corner, ashamed and terrified and trembling. Artemis lies on a make-shift stretcher, but he can't bring himself to hold her hand. She flutters in and out of consciousness, and Wally just watches, terrified to touch her. She's too precious, too delicate. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe. 

 

She is hooked up to a collection of reassuring machines that beep and hum and measure her progress in numbers and quantifiable values, not in futile shoulder squeezes, or muttered attempts at reassurance. 

 

Later, when she wakes up, Wally is there, stroking the back of her hand so tentatively, she almost thinks she's imagining it. He's a mess, she notes, the pain in his eyes so real and intense she sits bolt upright.

"Wally?"

"I can't do that again," he says, his voice low. 

 

She takes a deep breath. She feels like shit. She feels like her head has been ripped apart and sewn together again by someone with only a vague notion of how a head ought to work.

"What was it?" She steels herself.

"A form of nerve gas," he tells her, his voice cracking a tiny bit, "It wasn't good."

She hides her small shudder. "No kidding."

"Oh god, your lips were blue," he moans, running his hands through his hair, "You weren't breathing, Artemis, I thought you were dead-"

"Hey," she says softly, "I'm here. Wally, I'm ok." 

"It doesn't matter," he breathes, " _I can't do that again_."

 

She thinks of the way he pulls her in for a kiss. She thinks of the way his hand trails down her back when he's angling for attention. She thinks of his grin, his freckles, his stupid obsession with organising his pens by colour. She tries to think of her life without these things, but she can't. 

 

"Ok," she says, and he shoots her a puzzled look.

"Ok?"

"Let's do it," she says, wheezing slightly. He leans over her with concern, but she waves him away. "Let's ditch the spandex, send in our college applications, and rent somewhere with an oversized fridge."

There's a flicker of hope across his face, a flicker of the smiling boy she kissed four hours ago and wished her luck. " _Two_ oversized fridges?" he offers.

"Don't push it," she rasps, and he finally breaks into a grin, gripping her hand with a real enthusiasm.

"I love you," he tells her fervently, and kisses her.

She sighs happily into his mouth. "Stay, please," she whispers, and he smirks a little, because she's adorable when she's vulnerable, and he loves that she lets him see it. (Even if it does take a near-death experience and a lungful of nerve gas. He'll take anything she gives him.)

 

He gently rearranges the wires, and she scoots along, wincing. He climbs in, fitting around her uncomfortably and awkwardly, and everything is digging in everywhere. Even so, it's perfect. 

"How about a dog?" he says hopefully.

"We'll see," she says primly, turning away so he can't see the ridiculous grin on her face. His hand is warm on her hip, and the tip of his nose tingles where it touches her neck. 

 

"We'll see," she repeats sleepily, feeling warm, and loved, and full of hope. "But I get to name it, ok?" Wally grins into her neck, and she finally drifts off.

 

She dreams of domesticity and freshly pressed sheets, and not once does she fire a single shot. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel a bit silly posting this, because I wrote it late at night in a rush of stupid feelings about my own stupid paranoia about my other half dying, so it's very heart-felt, and a bit daft, but I hope someone enjoys it nonetheless! <3


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